Inner Peace
by GreekPrincess143
Summary: The Avengers and Loki go on a mission to the School, and find 2 of the experiments: a nameless human-avian girl and a clone of one of their own. They take them home and try to raise them right. It doesn't always go according to the plan. May include pairings or slashes, rated because I'm paranoid.


**Welcome to my attempt at writing a Avengers/Maximum Ride crossover. I decided to rewrite the first chapter and keep it mostly in Loki's POV. Doing every character's POV was time-consuming and difficult.**

**Now, if you recognise the character, I don't own it. Enough said.**

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_**Loki POV:**_

After my brief attempt at forcibly taking over Midgard, Odin dealt with my...deviation...severely. I was cast into the deepest, darkest dungeons of Asgard and tortured. I feared not the dark, nor the pain. I had experienced much worse at the hands of Thanos. Nothing could rival the pain I felt at his hands. But far worse was the humiliation. He made me a sniveling shell of what I once was, a _mockery_ of my former glory. For that, I hated him. No, I _loathed_ him with every fiber of my being. That..._creature_...took the one thing I held sacred and desecrated it. My magic was my own and no other's, and Thanos manipulated it to serve his bidding. Since I escaped his tyranny, I have not used my magic, for some irrational, childish part of me fears it will not be the same magic, it will not be _my_ magic. Deep down, I know the truth, and yet I continued to make excuses for my reluctance: it would give Thanos my location, Odin disapproved, it would weaken me. Anything was better than facing the truth. I, Loki, God of Mischief and Magic, was afraid to use my own magic.

But like any warrior, I hid my weakness. I was the only one to know of my secret, and I kept it well. Once Odin discovered I hadn't used magic since my capture, he threatened me, but not even that loosened my tongue. Daily torture sessions made me weak, but not once did I beg for mercy or give up my secret. To do so would be unforgivable.

Finally, Frigga and Thor intervened on my behalf and forced Odin to treat me civilly, reminding him that I was a member of the royal family and thus had rights most citizens didn't. Odin may have scoffed at this reasonings, as I did when I heard the news, but he conceded. I was moved to a bare cell within hours. It had no windows and thick bars to keep me from escaping, as well as a straw pallet to soften what passed as a bed. It was not luxurious, but it was far better than my former prison. The guards treated me well, albeit fearfully. I did not mind, for their company was dull and bored me. I had books to entertain me, so I had no need for companionship. It was a plain, but good, life. I was given good food and entertainment, and I had not been tortured. However, Odin did not allow a healer to tend me and ordered that I was to heal myself. Since I did not use magic, it was a long process and I was in pain for quite a while.

Days passed. Weeks turned into months. I had no visitors and no way to mark the passing of time. The only way of telling how long I had been there was the daily meals. Everyday, twice a day, a servant would bring me my meal. It was a different servant each time so I did not bother speaking to them. They were below me, and I had no desire to talk with uneducated simpletons. One day, my routine changed. I was summoned to the throne room by Odin to discuss my punishment.

Odin, it seemed, had been persuaded by Frigga and Thor to propose an alliance with the Midgardians. Thor had somehow convinced the Midgardians to agree to such an idea. Perhaps they believed they could monitor my behavior and prevent a repeat performance. I scoffed at the very notion that Midgardians could control me, but I remained silent. As Odin droned on, I learned that I was to remain under the surveillance of the Avengers and confined to Stark Tower, until they felt I had repented. It was a ridiculous notion, but one I felt I could use to my advantage. Learning the habits of one's enemies is advantageous in battle, and my war with the Avengers was far from over.

So I went along with it. Thor escorted me down to Midgard, where I was promptly bound and locked in the same prison they used the first time, while they figured out what to do with me. After hours had passed, I was escorted to a room with a bed and a closet. The agents locked me in, and I heard them settle down outside. I was no better than a prisoner. At least Asgardians had the courtesy to call me that, and not a guest as the Midgardians did. It mattered not to me. I would be released soon.


End file.
